


Subtext

by hunters_retreat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chuck has to watch, Chuck is an awesome prophet, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-15
Updated: 2009-06-15
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5347886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunters_retreat/pseuds/hunters_retreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If people can’t read the finely crafted subtext they didn’t deserve to know the truth anyway. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Subtext

  
Chuck wakes up from his alcohol induced slumber and stumbles over to the computer, turning it on and grabbing for the cold coffee he’d left sitting there before the visions had begun.  He liked it better when he was just a writer.  Truth be told, being a prophet sucks.  He knows what Sam and Dean are going through, knows what is to come, and the angels keep him locked up so tight he can’t get through to them.  He’s tried before, tried to warn Sam and Dean about Lilith, but Zach was there.  Yes, he calls him Zach because it seems to piss him off, unlike Castiel who seems to think being called Cas is a badge of honor, like he’s earned it or something.  Castiel has.  Zack hasn’t but if Dean and Sam can tackle the apocalypse, Chuck can at least piss off his capturing Angel. 

 

 

The computer finishes it’s warm up and Chuck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting his mind drift through the memory of his dreams.  So, Sam and Dean ran.  It sort of surprises him, and he thinks that maybe if either was alone and Lucifer was coming out of the ground they might have stayed to see what was happening, but they aren’t alone and each is worried about his brother.

 

 

The tenuous grip they have on each other doesn’t let up and even as they run from the church their hands continue to search the other out, keeping one from stumbling, helping the other run quicker. 

 

 

They get away, run and run and don’t look back except to make sure there is nothing on their tail.  They don’t talk and the silence between them is telling, if familiar for all the awkwardness that’s been between them lately.  It’s well past midnight when Dean pulls over at a gas station and goes in to grab snacks and pay for gas while Sam hits the can.  When Sam’s back out, Dean throws him the keys before disappearing into the bathroom himself.  They get back on the road and keep going, only there is no destination, just a need to get the hell away because Dean has seen hell and there’s no way he wants to take Sam anywhere near the thing that runs it.  Right now, Sam will do anything so long as Dean just lets him be near him.

 

 

They switch two more times, eating in the car, sleeping in turns.  It’s past midnight on the second night before Dean pulls into a motel.  Sam doesn’t say anything, just blinks up at his brother when he pulls the car door open and sends Sam into the room.

 

 

Lock and Salt.  Shower.  Clothes.  Chuck’s seen this part too often to write it again and really, it lost interest after a few times.  Once he got past the idea of quaint and thought lifesaving.  Once he realized he needed to do the same because the world he wrote was creeping into his real life and he was as tied to the monsters as the men he thought were characters. 

 

 

He sits straight up in his chair suddenly, when more comes because even though Sam can sometimes be a little grabby and insecure, he’s never manhandled Dean when he came out of the shower before, never made sure there was no damage quite like this.  It’s intense and Chuck’s fingers itch to write out the shaky touch of fingers over pale skin and the sharp inhale of breath as Dean rasps out “Sammy…”.  He wants to write about the texture of Sam’s hair as Dean twines his fingers in it, pulling gently to bring his brother closer to him.  He wants to write of Sam’s relief at being allowed this close to his brother again, about having the world back now that Dean is with him again.  He wants to capture the feel of lips pressed together, of wet heat and desperation, of need and longing, and please don’t let me fall anymore.  He wants to tell how Dean sighs and looks at Sam like he’s the world because his brother is home again and safe and somehow they made it out alive.

 

 

Chuck opens his eyes suddenly and realizes exactly where this is going, sees the way Sam’s hand drops to the towel on Dean’s hip and pulls.  He sees Sam pressing Dean to the mattress.

 

 

He runs a hand over his face and stands up, going for more coffee.  Well… this is something new.  He adds the coffee, pours the water.  He thinks about it, thinks about what to do next.  Nothing comes and when the coffee is finished he fillsd his mug and goes back to his desk.  So… he’ll just write how when Dean came out of the shower, they got a good night’s sleep, because God knew they were going to sleep well after…. That. 

 

 

He wonders for a minute if he should be editing out what is happening.  This is supposed to be a religious text after all.  The Winchester gospel.  He shakes his head at that though.  He never wrote the demon blood into the storyline either.  Not until it was too late to stop anything.  He isn’t going to write this point down either. 

 

 

Besides, if people can’t read the finely crafted subtext they didn’t deserve to know the truth anyway. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/profile)[comment_fic](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/) cing!


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